The Natural Compatriots' Palace Perspective Book
by Mala-Inactive
Summary: In this collection of one-shots, expect strange writing styles and odd scenarios.
1. Chapter 1: Words of the Witch

**Obligatory Disclaimer: **If you recognize it, it probably isn't mine.

_"The natural compatriots' palace perspective:  
A realistic imagination  
The imitation of form  
A natural fantasy"_

**Title:** Words from the Witch**  
Characters:** Kim, Bonnie**  
Word Count:** 343**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
Summary:** A witch and a wannabe prince have a rather one-sided conversation.**  
A/N:** This little short was heavily inspired by the Utena Movie.

She stood in a room filled with white sheets hanging on the walls and sprawled across the floor. Bonnie, wearing a white and sea-foam green school uniform with a ridiculous amount of frills, sat in the center of the room. Languidly, she painted her nails. "The wannabe prince finally pays a visit to the witch. So, Possible, what do you want?"

Suddenly, a chill ran down Kim's spine. She didn't know why she was here. She didn't want to be here. "I don't know."

Bonnie placed the bottle of nail polish to the side and beckoned Kim to come closer. She shouldn't. Bonnie was a witch, after all, but then their eyes finally met and looking into those blue eyes entrapped her. She moved to Bonnie's side.

"There never was a prince and there will never be a prince. You will never be a prince." Bonnie whispered into her ear. They'd look like lovers to anyone watching. Kim hated this sitch. "Do you know why, Possible?" Bonnie bit down on Kim's ear, drawing blood.

"W-w-why?"

She kissed the wound. "Because the prince has to be tireless and selfless." Her fingers caressed Kim's other ear. "The prince must be saving people, constantly." Violet nails dug into pale flesh. "But a man tires, or he falls victim to his desires." Her hands moved down to Kim's inner thighs. Even with the fabric between them, they were well beyond uncomfortably close. "He can never be a prince." And just when Kim couldn't take the touches anymore, Bonnie pushed her away.

She licked the blood off her lips. "I know this and accept it as true; that makes me a witch." Kim turned around to leave, but Bonnie stopped her with one last question. "What will you do, Kim Possible, wannabe prince, with the knowledge you've gained?"

Kim woke up, the dream already fading into nothingness, but her answer still raced through her mind. _I'll still try._ But the doubt lingered, and Kim couldn't help but wonder if this whole hero business was really such a good idea.


	2. Chapter 2: Scar Stories

**Title:** Scar Stories**  
Characters: **Kim, Shego**  
Word Count:** 428**  
Rating:** PG-13**  
Summary:** Every scar has a story, some stories more meaningful then others.**  
A/N:** Originally, I was going to write a scene like this for Utena and Anthy but in a surprising turn of events, the Kim Possible version of this scenario actually contains more angst.

When together in bed for the first time, Kim's eyes can't help but wander over Shego's exposed pale skin, marvel over every perfect curve, and carefully examine the...scars? She stops, her hand held out in hesitation. Even now, she still can't bring herself to touch Shego's history. Not with fingers, not with words. But then Shego sighs and acquiesces to Kim's feather-light touch. She traces a thin, meandering line. There's a story. She caresses an off-white circle with ragged edges. That's another story. Her fingers follow a fernlike pattern from the shoulder, to the back, and to the center of the largest scar. It's a complex design of radially branching lines like a network of veins, an enchanting flower sans petals, or a snapshot of lightning.

For a moment, the scar changes from a mark of battle to ineffable body art. "It's beautiful," whispers Kim. Without thinking, she lays a single kiss upon its center. Such beautiful art must have a wonderful story.

_Do you know what I hate?_

No! She's **wrong**. The story isn't pretty; it's absolutely hideous. She tries to back away, to keep this story and the memories out of mind, but Shego grabs her still-outstretched hand. Maybe rage fills those green eyes, maybe concern (maybe understanding). Kim doesn't know because she's doing her damnedest to look at the white sheets, the gaudy desk lamp, the overflowing bookshelf, and anywhere but those eyes.

"Kim." They're eye to eye and Shego's hands feel so cold. "It's ok."

"N-no, it's not ok." She back on that roof again and rain's falling into her eyes. "It's not ok! Please, let go of me."

Reluctantly, she releases her grip. "Why?"

_That your date melted?_

"B-because I hurt you! and hated you! and almost k-k-k—" She can't say it. She has to say it. "Killed...you."

_Nah,_

"And that hate and rage is still there! On your back, in my mind. I...I...I don't want to be like that again, ever."

_you._

Then Kim latches onto Shego and holds on while sobbing uncontrollably, repeating the words "I'm sorry" over and over again. As Shego murmurs reassuring words into Kim's ear, she can't help but notice Kim's own extensive network of scars (especially the faded burns).

Eventually, Kim stops crying and falls asleep. Idly, Shego runs her fingers through Kim's red tresses but she winces once she realizes she'll dredge up those negative emotion again when they talk tomorrow morning. But she knows from experience that emotional wounds can leave emotional scars and emotional scars (unlike her electrical scar) never look pretty.


End file.
